


A Northern Lesson

by songsmith



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Book: A Horse and His Boy, Calormen, Golden Age (Narnia), Hatesex, M/M, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 23:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12046725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songsmith/pseuds/songsmith
Summary: Rabadash gets something he wasn't intending.





	A Northern Lesson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Airawyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airawyn/gifts).



Watching the Calormen prince flirt with his sister was going to drive King Edmund to drink. His fingers tightened around his glass, fighting the urge to simply toss back the over-sweet wine in one go. Across the room, Rabadash raised Susan’s hand to his lips while she fluttered her lashes at him. Correction: watching Susan respond to the flirting would drive him there.

Very deliberately Edmund lifted his glass, took one precise sip, and lowered it again. He was not going to guzzle wine as though he were at one of Bacchus’s romps — although the godling’s particular brand of revelry might improve Rabadash’s character somewhat. A good solid dose of humility would make the prince far more tolerable…

Edmund entertained himself for a time with picturing the haughty Rabadash stumbling drunkenly through dryad dances, or rolling about in the undergrowth with fauns. It was diverting enough to distract him from the flirtation, but when another guest accidentally jostled him, he blinked back to awareness just in time to see Rabadash lean down to murmur something in Susan’s ear. She giggled and — Aslan help him, there was no other word for it — _simpered_ at the prince. Susan! Edmund hadn’t thought she knew the meaning of the word.

To hell with not drinking. Edmund knocked back his wine in one long swallow, then dropped the empty glass on a passing servant’s tray and made determinedly for the door. He had no idea what Susan’s game was, but he was done watching her play it.

Out in the hall, away from the court’s view, he let himself slump against the wall and indulge the scowl he couldn’t wear in public. This trip had already been weeks too long, and seemed likely to last at least another month. The arguments with himself over Calormen’s relative value to Narnia were becoming a daily occurrence, and each time the balance slipped a little further in favor of abandoning the entire venture. If Archenland hadn’t been trapped between them, or if Lune hadn’t been such a staunch ally —

The sound of a door opening straightened his back and cleared his expression before he’d fully registered the noise. Edmund turned to find Rabadash himself strolling toward him with purpose.

“It is early yet to retire,” the prince said. “Does not our celebration please you?”

Edmund returned his blandest court smile. “A little air,” he said. “Crowds make the room over-warm to northern blood.”

“Of course,” Rabadash answered, politely ignoring the chill desert night well underway. There was a pause, in which Edmund resigned himself to going back into the party and tried to compose an appropriately oblique way to enquire why Rabadash had abandoned Susan to seek him out. The prince interrupted that line of thought. "You do not approve of our affection for your most beauteous sister."

Edmund tensed, though he gave no visible sign. "Our sister decides for herself where her favor is bestowed," he replied carefully.

"A strange thing,” said Rabadash, “to be sure. For the heart of a woman is ever fickle and her wisdom clouded by passing whims."

"You know very little of women, O prince." And he would surely love to introduce the prince to some of Narnia’s ladies, free of the constraints of diplomacy.

“Ah?” Rabadash smiled that superior little smirk of his, strutting closer. “Well, perhaps we are not among them so much as you, being more occupied with the pursuits of war and learning the concerns of men. We gather it is your brother who wears that mantle while you keep his household.”

Oh, it was like that, was it? Edmund took a half-step forward, enough to bring them nearly nose-to-nose. He was perhaps a hair shorter than the prince, but good northern boots added height, and he had grown up learning tricks of command effective on beings twice his size. He backed Rabadash up one step at a time until the prince’s back fetched up against the wall. “Shall I show you what I know of men?” Edmund asked lightly, shifting one leg forward to brush the ill-concealed bulge in the prince’s trousers.

“You think to seduce me in your sister’s place?” Rabadash tossed back, but his hips twitched and he made no move to step away.

“Seduce? No, I don’t think that’s necessary, do you?” Edmund tugged open the single knot holding the prince’s trousers closed, and slid his hand inside to wrap around Rabadash’s cock. “You’re already eager and willing, after all.” He tugged roughly, sword-calloused palm scraping over sensitive flesh. Rabadash gave a hoarse half-shout before biting his own hand to keep silence. Edmund smirked, and did it again.

“This is more…. a lesson,” he said, circling his thumb over the head, where liquid was already seeping. “Men, O my young prince, are easily led, as if by a leash.” Another tug drove that point home before he softened his touch just a little, enough to make the friction more pleasant than painful. “And the more they strut and preen, the more of their thinking is done by the smaller head.” He dragged a fingernail along the underside ridge, pressed his thumb against the frenulum, then resumed both stroking and lecture. “Matters of import, of life and death even, all vanish in a sudden downward rush of vital energies.” He twisted his hand, fingers prodding back behind the balls to massage the sensitive spot there, and drew another muffled shout from the prince. “Indeed, if one knows men, it takes but one hand to bring even the proudest…” He stopped, thumb and forefinger curled around the base of Rabadash’s cock, the rest pressed to the perineum, while the prince thrust futilely into the air.

Finally Rabadash ripped his hand from his mouth, loosing a stream of profanity. “Tash take you, _move_!” he howled, grabbing at Edmund’s hand.

He chuckled, and obliged, pumping the man’s cock until he jerked and spent, then sagged panting against the wall. With deliberate slowness Edmund wiped his hand on the prince’s robes and re-tied his trousers. He leaned in, lips almost brushing Rabadash’s, before turning his head to whisper in the prince’s ear. “… to begging. Here endeth the lesson, O prince.” And stepping back, he turned his back on the prince to seek his own chambers.


End file.
